


Cockpit Spill

by Raicho



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Deepthroating, First Officer Keith, Lap Sex, M/M, Multi, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Restraints, Spitroasting, Voltron is an airline, and Lance is a flight attendant, captain shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 01:18:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14557722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raicho/pseuds/Raicho
Summary: His wristwatch reads exactly 0900 hours when Lance finds himself being pleasantly spit roasted inside the cockpit of a 737 at an altitude of 30,000 feet.





	Cockpit Spill

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write an FA/CA/FO fic for a while, and Voltron just happened to be the lucky fandom.  
> Beta'd by my beautiful Corgi and magnificent David. Thank you both, I love you forever and always.

            His wristwatch reads exactly 0900 hours when Lance finds himself being pleasantly spit roasted inside the cockpit of a 737 at an altitude of 30,000 feet. There’s a seatbelt extender wrapped around his upper body, effectively pinning his arms behind his back and leaving him defenseless as he allows himself to be rhythmically rocked backward and forward from the ambitious onslaught orchestrated by his partners’ thrusts. His shirt and vest are unbuttoned and pushed away from his exposed chest, sliding halfway down his arms in wrinkled folds of bleached polyester. He’s leaning over the center control panel, metallic switches and blinking plastic lights rubbing unceremoniously against his bared flesh, tickling the erect points of his nipples and the shallow dips of his ribcage as he falls into the steady pulse of their bodies’ movements. There’s a cock, heavy and red with arousal, shoving past his infamously flirtatious lips and down his throat with unyielding urgency—its flavor something of a mixture between salty and savory—while another length of admirable size gracelessly drives between his lubricated thighs with impatient effort. Lance gags a few times before his jaw becomes completely slackened, surrendering himself to the continuing blitz of unrivaled stimulation.

            There’s pressure everywhere, forcing Lance to the border of both pain and pleasure. He tries to keep tempo with his partners, sucking and clenching both in unison like a professional cock-slut. He allows himself to be used and filled, and touched and tasted. He’s momentarily startled when a hand reaches forward and grabs hold of his quivering interest, working him off in short and violent jerks until light beads of cum drizzle against his partner’s thumb.  Lance hollows his mouth around its warm intruder and suppresses a hushed whimper.

            He tries to not squirm against his bindings too much since the rough fabric of Lance’s unbuttoned attendant uniform chafes uncomfortably against the sensitive skin of his shoulders and back. The first officer is considerate enough to support Lance’s upper body by gripping between the junction of his shoulders and arms while Lance’s head is hovered centered atop his crotch, willfully sucking his pilot’s dick like a newborn on its mother’s tit. With shivers coursing through his skeleton as if he were sat on an electric chair, Lance’s lower half vigorously rebounds between the captain’s manhood and quick-paced fist.

\---

_Ding Ding._

            The double chimes from the pilots’ interphone line call for Lance’s immediate attention.

            “Yes, sir?”

            There’s a few brief seconds of silence before the first officer responds, “Lance?”

            Lance bites his lower lip and nods to himself, fully knowing that neither of the pilots can visibly see the slight motion, “Yes, Keith?”

            “How is everything going back there?”

            “Uh…” Lance peeks around the corner to peer into the aisle of the main cabin where Hunk and Pidge are currently walking through with a beverage service. He looks around at the passengers, half asleep and half wide awake, staring at the service cart like they’re at a five-star hibachi restaurant waiting to be served, “Good.”

            There’s static on the other end of the line.

            “Keith?”

            “How busy are you?”

            “Well, I mean,” Lance takes another gander down the aisle and then lets his gaze fall over his snoozing first class passengers, “Pidge and Hunk are just wrapping up our service and then we were going to—”

            “Lance,” Keith sounds nearly impatient, “how busy are _you_?”

            An uncomfortable warmth settles in his lower belly, making him anxious for what’s about to be asked of him. Lance pauses for a few seconds as he unconsciously lets out a short, desirous breath into the interphone’s transmitter, patiently waiting to hear Keith’s magic words. He can feel droplets of sweat beginning to bud across his hairline, and so he loosens his tie and wipes at his dampened forehead with the back of his hand.

            “Lance.”

            Lance stutters, “Y-yes?”

            “Can you come here?” Keith asks.

            “Here?”

            “In the cockpit.” There’s quiet. “We have a _spill_.”

            Two minutes later Lance is crawling into the captain’s lap with his ass as bare as the day he was born.

\---

            “God, Lance, you’re doing—” Keith starts before his voice fades off into a sigh of ecstasy, his movements becoming quicker and his grip becoming tighter.

            If Lance had to guess, he’d say he’s doing _fucking fantastic_.

            There’s spittle and drops of cum spluttering from his lips like a sinful rain shower as Lance keeps his throat relaxed and ready for Keith. He presses his tongue against the underside of Keith’s length, taking the time to taste the flavored musk of cinnamon spice and hotel bar soap while he feels each vein and every throb as if he were attempting to read braille. Lance’s face is warm and flushed red with shame, but he absolutely loves the unyielding attention that Keith is directing at him with his unblinking stare and his lust-glazed eyes.

            Lance’s teeth suddenly scrape along Keith’s velvet-soft skin as he shudders in response to an unexpectedly powerful propulsion aimed against his rear. “Ah ahh ahh!”

            Keith’s grip becomes even more unforgivingly tight as he hisses, “F-fuck. Oh, fuck… Shii—”

            After a few more solid thrusts, Keith scrunches his eyes tightly closed and bites his lower lip until it splits beneath the stress of his pointed canine. Keith cums hard, spilling hot strings of contentment down Lance’s gullet as the flight attendant hurriedly swallowed his bountiful load. He leaves his softening cock in the comfort of Lance’s pliable mouth for a moment or two before falling back into his seat feeling totally exhausted and spent. Keith’s grip on Lance releases as Shiro takes over balancing the flight attendant’s full weight, and his hands move to pet over Lance’s head; his cum-stained fingers sticky and knotting in Lance’s short brown locks.

            “Good boy.”

            Lance hums with pride at hearing Keith’s praise just before he’s pulled back fully against his captain’s chest. Lance knows that Shiro is a silent yet lethal force behind him, ramming into Lance with the prowess of a panther and the power of an eager stallion. He feels sloppy and used as lubricant and precum gush from his asshole while Shiro burrows himself deeper inside of Lance as if he were a collier in search of unclaimed diamonds.

            “Mmff!” Lance half-trills and wriggles as he’s propelled upward after a particularly strong push. His hands desperately strain against his bindings, instinctively attempting keep himself upright. Keith notices his struggle and moves to lend his hands as a support for the flight attendant once more, his calloused fingertips exploring the soft sensitive flesh of Lance’s naked breast as the captain continues his unfaltering salvo.

            Lance is bouncing wildly, up and down and up and down, as Shiro plows into his rear with salacious hunger. Lance quietly whines as his mouth lolls open in a helpless state of heaving while Shiro’s unrelenting thrusts send him higher. Spit, cum, and sweat paint his face like lipstick on a pig and his vision begins to blur as his eyes roll into the back of his skull. There’s a sharp squeeze against his chest, and it takes him a moment before Lance realizes that Keith is bending forward and suckling at one of his perky nipples. Keith’s tongue rolls over the tawny nub with delicate kitten licks before biting down with the edge of his teeth as he pinches Lance’s other nipple between his thumb and forefinger. In the middle of Shiro and Keith, Lance feels completely stuffed and aroused, overwrought with burgeoning rapture.

            Lance’s own cock is bobbing alert and impatient under the weight of his pilots’ attentions. He gasps for air as if he’s been held underwater for the past fifteen minutes, panting and moaning like a whore. He’s thankful for the fact that he’s bare from the waist down, pants discarded in the right-side corner of the cockpit in fear of becoming too tangled; he’s afraid that if he’d still been clothed he wouldn’t have been able to leave the sanctuary of the cockpit without breaking every code of compliance under their company’s policy of professional attire. But thankfully he’s managed thus far to avoid collecting any stains on his off-the-shoulder dress shirt and sky-blue vest.

            Cum dribbles down the length of his dick and down his legs as Shiro moves to wrap his large forearm around Lance’s waist. A satisfying pop slips from Keith’s mouth as Lance’s perked nipple is swiftly whisked from reach. Shiro sits in his chair, smug pleasure apparent in his expression, as he watches Lance ride him with some semblance of a debauched reverse cowgirl.

            Lance half cries when the captain’s grip releases around the girth of his cock, but his arousal immediately returns with new enthusiasm as he feels Shiro’s right arm snake around his neck in a restrictive manner. Shiro wraps his fingers around Lance’s loosened tie and pulls him closer in a lax headlock of sorts. Shiro’s forearm is firm enough against his throat, and the pressure against Lance’s trachea is impressively dizzying.

            He feels when Keith’s lips loyally find his chilled, spit-covered nipple once more; the pilot playfully nibbles and twists the pebbled flesh of nub and areola. Keith slides his hands from Lance’s chest down toward his groin, tracing deft fingers over both shaft and scrotum. Keith’s touch is both teasing and torturous, making Lance’s toes to curl in reaction as his tender skin is steadily massaged and pinched. Keith’s hand wraps comfortably around Lance’s shaft, his thumb running over the tip, spreading the even trickle of precum over smooth flesh like butter on bread. Keith’s thumb pushes into the sensitive skin under Lance’s head as his hand quickly glides up and down the throbbing cock. This added pleasure sends Lance over the edge.

            Lost in euphoria, Lance stares sightlessly out at the wide view displayed through the windshield, taking in the view of plush clouds and crystal clear skies all while being ravenously fucked from head to toe. He squeezes his eyes shut and sobs. “Ah… ah! Sh-shiro! Kei-iiith!”

            By the time Lance quiets down and drops his gaze, he can see the slight bulge of his stomach, stuffed full with Shiro’s length and Keith’s swallowed seed. Shiro pulls Lance against him, releasing Lance’s neck and tie in favor of wrapping his arms around the attendant’s bare waist. Shiro rests a possessive hand against the swollen curve of Lance’s belly and murmurs with ill-suppressed smugness. “My Lance… Always so noisy for us.”

            Keith is still assaulting Lance’s nipples when Shiro’s cock twitches eagerly, ready to expel his completion. Shiro’s grip on Lance’s stomach and flank tightens and he purrs with obvious fulfillment, the noise sends tickling vibrations through Lance’s spine. Everything is too hot and bright as white light floods Lance’s senses, leaving him limp and wanton against Shiro’s rising chest.

            As he comes to, Lance finds Keith leaned over and sampling the spent cum painted across his tanned chest. Keith looks up at him with pupils blown-wide and lifts his head to kiss Lance on the lips, smearing the flavor of his spent elation across the breadth of his lips with glutinous gratification. When Keith pulls back, Lance can’t help but smile and poke out his tongue to timidly lick at the tacky tang covering his lips.

            His ass is sore and his chest aches from the restraint of his bindings, but Lance glows from bliss as he feels Shiro’s flaccid length slowly begin to pull out. His watch reads 0922 when Shiro unbuckles the seatbelt extender across Lance’s chest and brings him into a gentle embrace. They both share a chaste kiss and a blush-inducing smile before he ambles out of Shiro’s lap and reaches for his pants. The pilots both reach for their headsets, slipping them on and falling back into professional routine as Lance finishes buttoning the last muddled pieces of his uniform.

            “So, uh,” Lance crouches near the door of the cockpit, “good work, crew?”

            Both Shiro and Keith give him a humorous smile in response.

“Thank you, Lance.” Shiro is the first to speak, commending him as always on a job well done.

            Keith is slower to the punch, but still gives Lance an awkward nod and smirk, “Good work. ‘Til next time?”

            “Yeah,” Lance mutters as his mind briefly flashes back to two minutes ago when he was spilling cum like a burst hydrant, “Of course! Anytime!”

            Profusely blushing, Lance is excused back into the main cabin where he’s promptly greeted by an anxious Hunk and Pidge. They eye him suspiciously as he heads toward the privacy of the forward galley in a futile attempt at escape.

            “Must’ve been a big _spill_ , huh, Buddy?” Hunk jokes as he pats Lance’s back with his big hand, cornering the smaller flight attendant in the tight corner-space of the galley.

            Lance gulps nervously, avoiding all eye contact.

            “So,” Pidge begins as she leans into his personal space, her eyes flitting over Lance’s crooked silver wings as he adjusts them proper above his chest pocket, “did you ‘take care of that _spill_ ’?” She asks incredulously.

            Of course everyone on the crew knows what goes on between Lance and his pilots, it’s just that they like to make him sweat with embarrassment every once in a while. With that in mind, Lance stops his nervous fidgeting and gives them both a playful wink.

            “Oh, you know,” Lance grins, “I’ve got it all taken care of.”

**Author's Note:**

> * I'm not familiar with a 737, however I adopted the double chimes from the E170/175 for the call chimes (same goes for cockpit configuration and galley placement). I figured it wasn't too much of a major detail to get hung up over, but if you are... just pretend.


End file.
